#joshua sharp | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mochacoda · 5 months ago

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too nice | hjs

Pairing: Hong Joshua x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Joshua Hong is nice. Too nice. He’s the kind of nice that makes people think twice about their relationship to him, wondering if they might be special. The answer is, no. Problem is, he's your coworker and your neighbor.

Content: Fluff | Coworkers to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: slightly insecure reader, totally inspired by the youngji chocolate milk grandchildren interview, lots of elevators, lots of tension, a bit of drinking, mutual pining, "sweetheart" as a petname, gentleman agenda indeed, except he goes a bit mad at the end, seungkwan is a comedic genius, woozi is the wingman of the year, konglish w/ context clues, reader is scared of loud noises, no "y/n," loosely connected to python (seungcheol)

Word Count: 10K

────୨ৎ──── Monday

Joshua Hong is nice. Really nice. He opens the door for you every morning walking into work. He insists that he carries heavy file boxes from your boss’ office to your desk. He buys you coffee from the cafe down the street, knowing that the instant machine is almost always broken. Whenever he passes you in the hallway, he always smiles and mouths “fighting!” He notices when your enthusiastic mask slips and your tiredness peaks through. He tells you not to work so hard, and asks if you’ve been sleeping well.

He’s the kind of nice that makes people think twice about their relationship to him, wondering if they might be special.

But the answer is, no.

“He’s just like that. He’s nice to everyone. Get a grip.”

You sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror hanging above your vanity. You’ve been absentmindedly rubbing moisturizer on your cheeks for the last three minutes, at least, thinking about your coworker. How have you gotten to the point of talking to yourself in attempts to rationalize the thoughts of him clouding your mind?

All of a sudden, your alarm rings. You jolt upright, reminded that you have to leave your tiny apartment and head over to your equally small office cubicle.

You quickly stand up from your vanity chair, then walk over to your closet to grab a jacket. Relying on muscle memory, your hand moves toward the hook it always lies on, only to swipe at air.

The one and only winter coat you own isn’t there.

You groan, remembering that you’d put it in the laundry bin after staining it with beer over the weekend, at that disastrous company “bonding” event. You look down at the taupe sweater you’re wearing, pinching the material to guess if it’d be warm enough. It’s barely a centimeter of fabric.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you decide that the thin sweater would just have to do.

You turn back to the mirror to do one last check of your appearance, when something catches your eye. Sitting on your bedside table is the plushie Joshua had won for you at the arcade. The bunny stares back at you innocently. You’d placed it there last night before crashing out on your bed, fatigued from the chaos of the company outing—or, more specifically, the secondhand embarrassment recalling your attempts at trying to be normal around Joshua.

You shake your head roughly. You could cringe at yourself on the way to work. Grabbing your work bag and shoving your shoes on, you rush over to the door.

Squaring your shoulders, you open it and walk out. And for a moment, as you’re turning your key to lock the door, you think that you’ll be alone for the commute to work for once.

But then you hear a familiar voice.

“Good morning!”

You tense, heart beginning to race, then turn around with a weak smile.

“Hi, Joshua.”

Somehow, you’re not only coworkers with your crush, but also next door neighbors.

“Hey,” he says, then takes a sharp breath. “It’s pretty cold today. Is that sweater going to be warm enough?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, avoiding eye contact as you drop your keys into your bag. “It can’t be that cold.”

You adjust the bag strap on your shoulder and walk toward the elevator on your floor, pressing the down button. It immediately opens.

“You sure?”

You nod as the two of you walk inside the elevator.

Hoping he’ll stop pushing you on your lack of a coat, you ask, “Did you look into the McKinley and Lee file yet?”

“Come on, it’s not even 9am and you’re already attacking me with work!” Joshua dramatically clutches his chest, then lightly punches your arm. “What’d we say about 워라밸, huh?”

You feel your face getting hot, your right hand reflexively going up to where he’d touched your left arm. Was it always this toasty in the elevator?

Meeting his eyes for the first time today, you say, “Yeah, yeah, work-life balance. You’re right.”

His lips turn up and his eyes crinkle into bright crescent moons. You find yourself smiling back at him, despite having tried so hard to avoid his stupidly sweet gaze.

“I’m just teasin’, you know?” he says, leaning casually against the steel walls of the small elevator.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble again, rubbing the handle of your bag and tapping your foot to give yourself something else to focus on, suddenly aware that the two of you were alone.

God, could the elevator move any slower? Fidgeting with the loose threads of your sweater, you were on the verge of melting from being near his vicinity for so long.

Ever since Joshua Hong had arrived two months ago as a transfer from the Seoul branch, you haven’t gone a day without running into him. It was HR’s fault, really. The Human Resources department had placed him in yours, and also gave him the company-funded apartment next door to you.

He’d spent so much time around you that, if you didn’t see the people who regularly flocked to him, you’d think you were his only friend in the States. It was, and still is, ridiculous. His constant presence has meant that you are constantly aware of yourself. Of how you’re breathing too loud, and how your heart is beating too fast, and how you were in too much of a rush to do your full routine this morning. He makes you care more than usual about how well you perform at work, and, worse, he makes you think about how happy and funny you appear to be.

The way he teases you for being nervous (although that’s only because he’s around practically all the time) and the way he always notices when you aren’t feeling well—it’s as if he sees right through you. Yes, he sees right through you, and it’s incredibly scary knowing he could confront you at any time—maybe even in this elevator—and say that he’s known all along that you’ve had feelings for him. And what’s worse is that you know he’d be polite with his rejection. He’d be a gentleman, carefully letting you down with—

“Hello? Hellooo?” Joshua says, waving his hand in front of your face.

You jump, blinking rapidly. “Huh? Sorry, what?”

“We’re here, sweetheart,” he says gently.

“Oh,” you reply lamely.

He gestures with his hand for you to walk out of the elevator first. Inside the lobby, he walks by your side. As the two of you approach the door, he reaches it first, and opens it for you to head outside.

You’re immediately hit with a blast of winter and harsh winds. Your arms instinctively tighten around your stomach, trying to prevent the cold air from rushing up your sweater.

Joshua turns to you, brows furrowed. His eyes glance over your sweater again, and you can tell he’s about to say something. Certain it’s an I told you so, you quickly say, “Before you start, I’m fine. It’s really not that cold, and the bus is coming soon anyway.”

You march forward toward the crosswalk before the bus stop, knowing he’s following behind you. Once you reach the start of the white lines, you slow down to a stop, waiting for the signal to change.

Still behind you, Joshua says, “거기 있어봐.”

“왜?” Though confused, you listen to his request to stay where you are. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling somewhat awkward just standing with your back turned to him.

He doesn’t answer your question why, but you hear a shuffle and the sound of fabric rustling. Then you feel a warm coat draped over your shoulders.

You turn back to face Joshua with a start, opening your mouth to protest.

But before you can get a word out, he takes his pointer finger and lightly presses it against your lips.

“Shh,” he says with a smile. “Tomorrow, wear a jacket, okay?” He pats the top of your head.

Speechless, you barely bring yourself to nod, then remember to shut your jaw. Let’s just survive this bus ride, you tell yourself. God, it was unfair how nice he was. It only made it harder for you to believe he was like this with everyone—or to stop hoping that, somehow, you might be the exception.

────୨ৎ──── Tuesday

Ever since you showed up to work on Monday wearing Joshua’s coat, your coworkers have been speculating nonstop about your nonexistent relationship with the man. More specifically, your two closest friends in the department, Boo Seungkwan and Lee Jihoon, have had a lot to say.

Today would be no different. Huddled around the coffee table in the break room with Seungkwan and Jihoon, you’ve been roped into listening to their comments.

Eyes darting between the two of them, you silently sip on your coffee.

“I’m a hundred percent sure now. I swear it’s real, he’s so into you,” Seungkwan says while staring at you, waving his hands in the air like a madman.

Jihoon raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Remember when you said that the delivery guy had a crush on this one,” he replies while pointing at you, “only for it to be me? Your 촉 is trash.”

Seungkwan scrunches his nose, and huffs in your direction, as if you’re going to defend his skill of guessing office relationships. (You’re not.)

“Your hunch is horrible, I said,” Jihoon says, goading him.

“No,” Seungkwan frantically shakes his head. “That was a one off. Remember when I said the nepo baby in Finance liked Director Chun’s secretary? He kept staring at her and nobody believed me but I was right!”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Lucky guess.”

“No, no, no, my 촉 is excellent, thank you very much.” Seungkwan turns to you, all pouty. “You trust my 촉, right?”

Finding the entire conversation ridiculous, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. Though Seungkwan prides himself on his supposedly superior hunches, he is really only accurate half the time.

You raise your coffee cup to your lips and sip on the liquid inside, a perfect state in between steaming hot and lukewarm.

“Kkah, this coffee is great,” you say to Seungkwan, ignoring his question.

His eyes suddenly widen, and he frantically waves his pointer finger at you. “Oh, oh! Another thing! He always gets you coffee from that expensive place next door, Cafe whatever. He never gets us coffee, but he always gets you coffee.”

Taken aback, you put the cup down, saying, “No way, he does that for a lot of people. He bought coffee for the receptionist like, last week.”

“That’s because it was her birthday,” Seungkwan says.

“And how’d you know that?” you ask.

“Because there were happy birthday balloons next to her desk?” Seungkwan says matter-of-factly.

“Well—” you retort, before getting cut off.

“You know,” Jihoon suddenly interjects. “I hate to agree, but it’s true. Joshua doesn’t do that for anyone else.”

“Right?” Seungkwan exclaims, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Come on, I’m so right. Woozi said I’m right. Trust the 촉.”

You rub your temples, feeling ambushed by your loud friends.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You wave them off as you stand up from the little coffee table chair you’d been sitting on for the last few minutes. “I’m going to head out.”

“Where are you going?” Seungkwan asks.

“Away from you,” you joke.

“I know you’re going to the vending machine,” Jihoon accuses. "You always get a snack after coffee."

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

“Can you get me a granola bar, then? You know the one I like, the blueberry one.” Seungkwan asks.

“Oh, and a Coke Zero for me?” Jihoon adds. “Y’know, not everyone has a coffee fairy named Joshua, like you do.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You know it’s not like that. Besides, you guys just love using my money, don’t you?”

“Guilty,” Jihoon grins.

“Come on, I paid for karaoke last Friday,” Seungkwan complains. “That was way more expensive than a granola bar and a Coke.”

“Coke Zero,” Jihoon says, emphasizing the “Zero.”

“Tomato, tomato.” Seungkwan wrinkles his nose, enunciating the “ay” and “ah” in the two pronunciations of the word.

“Apples, oranges,” Jihoon insists.

“Okay, okay, let’s not fight, children. A blueberry granola bar and a Coke Zero, on your way.” You give a pretentious salute.

Grasping your coffee, you down the rest of it and get up from the table. You crumple the cup and toss it into the trash can before leaving.

Walking through the main hallway, you pass the vending machines on your department’s floor, which are known to swallow dollar bills without offering products in return. Between the youngest employees in the department—people like you, Seungkwan, and Jihoon—you’ve discovered a secret spot that has better machines.

Once you reach the elevator, you tap on the down button. When the doors open, you walk inside and press on the “G” and “Door Close” buttons.

The elevator doors close smoothly, and you tap your foot as you watch the numbers at the top right corner go down from 8. It reminds you of the awkward elevator ride from Monday morning, but you quickly shake those thoughts out of your head.

It’s best not to think of Joshua when you don’t have to.

The garage is a relatively far trek from floor 8, but it’s a worthwhile time sacrifice. The other floors (and by extension, their vending machines) are locked by key cards for employees of their respective departments, so it’s either you take a chance with the floor 8 machines or head to the basement. You, Seungkwan, and Jihoon have all found that you’d rather not take that chance.

The elevator announces your arrival to the ground floor with a ding, and as the doors open, you make a beeline toward the machines.

Seeing that someone is already using the vending machine closest to the elevator, you walk past it toward the machine closest to the doors leading out of the hall and into the garage.

“Blueberry granola bar, Coke Zero. Blueberry granola bar, Coke Zero,” you repeat to yourself under your breath.

Coming to a stop by the vending machine, you scan the snacks inside. Grabbing your wallet, you fish some dollars out and double check the numbers of the items before lifting your right hand up to the combination pad.

Jihoon first, because he was slightly less annoying than Seungkwan this morning: Coke Zero, number 405. You punch the numbers into the machine. When it flashes $2.00, your eyes widen.

“Two dollars for a soda is robbery,” you groan.

Still, you count two dollars out from the wad of cash in your left hand, then feed it into the machine. The machine begins whirring, the spiral in 405 moving forward. But just as you think the drink is going to come out, the spiral stops.

“Oh, come on,” you mutter.

You press on the small button next to the number pad that you guess is made for delivering change, but it doesn’t return your money.

Maybe putting in two more dollars would make the machine move and spit out two drinks? Immediately acting on the thought, you punch 405 in the number pad again and feed two more dollars into the machine, only for it to whir without delivering the Cokes again. Another two dollars later, and the same happens.

Taking matters into your own hands, you begin banging on the front of the vending machine. After around five seconds of failing to make the machine respond to physical force, your arms fall from the screen back down to your sides.

Clenching your fists, you sigh and count out two more dollars from your left hand. Then, your right hand stalls.

On second thought, you really don’t want to lose more money to the machine. Maybe you should try to force it out one more time? You shove the remaining cash into your back pocket.

You raise your clenched fists again, but before your hands meet the vending machine glass, a voice suddenly comes from right behind you.

“Whoa, whoa.”

Unfortunately, you’d recognize that honey-coated voice anywhere.

You spin around wide-eyed, coming shockingly close to Joshua Hong. His face is dangerously near yours, and his arms have wrapped around your body to clasp your hands in his.

“Shua? Wha—” Your voice is breathless, trailing off like you’ve forgotten how to speak.

“Hey, don’t fight the machine. You’ll only end up hurting your hands.”

His words are soft, but the way his thumb grazes your knuckles leaves a faint hint of warmth, like he’s lit a match against your skin. You should pull back—really, you should. But the closeness, the weight of his presence, keeps you frozen in place.

Your heart stutters in protest. This is nothing. He’s always like this. Always caring, always thoughtful. Always too close.

And yet, remembering what Seungkwan and Jihoon said, some part of you also wonders: Why does it feel different when it’s me?

Scowling, you drop his hands and take a step back, like distance will save you. "It's fine. I'm handling it."

His brow arches at your defiance, and for a moment, his gaze searches yours, like he’s looking for something you’re not ready to admit.

"Are you?" he asks, the words laced with amusement.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, both in frustration and to keep them from reaching out for him again and betraying you.

“I am,” you insist, though the heat rising in your cheeks threatens to undermine your confidence.

But then, just as quickly, he tilts his head, and his lips curve into a smirk—soft, upturned at the corners, with those faint dimples that could bring a fortress down.

And for a moment, just a moment, you wonder if you’re the only one feeling this way.

But before you can think of a sharp retort, his voice cuts through the haze in your head.

“You should’ve just asked me for help—like always.”

The softness in his tone, the familiarity, pulls you up short. It’s almost unbearable how easy it is for him to say things like this. Like it’s normal. Like it’s not turning your brain into static.

It’s too much. He can’t keep getting away with this, with being so nice to you all the time. It’s not fair.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you blurt out, clenching your fists tighter. You’ve got to hold your ground.

Joshua cocks his head slightly. “I thought you like it when I help you?”

Your face gets, if possible, even hotter.

Honestly, what can you even say to that?

Desperately avoiding his face, you stare at the much safer collar of his shirt. It’s an off white color, like the fur of the stuffed bunny he’d gotten you at the arcade. It remains on your nightstand because you still have no idea what to do with it.

Realizing that you didn’t answer him, you finally deflect. “Where’d you even come from? I didn’t see you.”

“Over there,” he says softly, pointing at the vending machine by the elevator.

“Oh.” You press your lips together, belatedly realizing that the person you’d passed on your way to this vending machine had been Joshua all along.

“So, what’d you need? I’ll fix it for you.”

You feel your face getting hot again. “Coke Zero,” you mumble.

“I thought you didn’t like Coke?” Joshua asks.

He remembers?

“It’s not for me,” you explain. “For Woozi.”

“Woozi?”

“Oh, I mean Jihoon.”

Strangely feeling like you have to explain yourself to him, to let him know that you’re only friends, you say, “We went to college together. Me, Jihoon, and Seungkwan. We just happened to get into the same department here.”

Joshua hums in acknowledgment. “No wonder, I always saw the three of you together. Made me feel left out.”

Your heart drops. Eyes wide, you cross your arms repeatedly, saying, “I never—we never meant to exclude you at all!”

“That’s okay, I have you to talk to, right?” he says with what you can only describe as an upside down smile.

You swallow and nod.

“Y’know I was just teasing,” he says casually. “I wasn’t offended.”

Before you can confront him about the mental whiplash he’s putting you through, he grasps your shoulders and maneuvers you to the right, so that he can stand in front of the machine. His touch was fleeting, but your heart skips a beat anyway.

You watch as he grabs two dollars out of his wallet, then punches 405 into the keypad. As the spiral whirs, he sends two precise kicks to the bottom left of the machine.

Doubting his method, you raise your eyebrows in uncertainty. But just as you do, the whirring is accompanied by the sound of the soft drinks falling.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

That actually works?

Joshua bends down and sticks a hand into the bottom flap of the machine, pulling out the drinks that had just dropped from slot 405.

“Four Coke Zeros, at your service. Anything else?”

“Oh, a blueberry granola bar for Seungkwan. And those chips for me,” you say with mild surprise, pointing at slots 201 and 302.

“Sure thing.” He taps the corresponding numbers and slips some bills into the machine.

Thankfully, 201 and 302 are very cooperative, unlike 405.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to pay for those,” you say, your fingers brushing against his as you accept Seungkwan’s granola bar and your bag of chips. The faint contact sends an unexpected jolt through your chest, one you force yourself to ignore.

“Oh, it’s not for free,” Joshua replies, his lips curling into a smile that’s soft yet pointed. “You owe me a coffee from next door.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Tomorrow morning, then?”

He nods his head slightly, a gesture so casual it almost feels calculated. “How about today, after work?”

Your heart stutters. The way he’s looking at you—his eyes shining, eyebrows raised a little, with a faint crease between his brows—feels strange. It’s somewhat vulnerable, like he’s waiting for something.

No, surely not. Surely, he’s not—

The thought dies before it can fully form, drowned out by the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Sure,” you manage to squeak out, your voice embarrassingly small in the space between you.

His smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something else in his expression. Relief? Satisfaction?

You swallow hard and grip the snacks in your hands like they’re a lifeline. You need to get a hold of yourself. Joshua Hong is not asking you out. He’s just nice. That’s all.

────୨ৎ──── Wednesday

“You’re joking. You’re actually joking.” Seungkwan’s voice rings throughout his waterlogged apartment.

“Most unfortunately, I’m not.” You blink, feeling a droplet of sweat getting dangerously close to your eyes.

You carefully wipe the sweat that’s gathered at your forehead using your forearm, since your hands are gloved up. You definitely don’t want the nasty residue from the rubber gloves getting on your face.

Seungkwan glares. “You didn’t tell me that you were on a date with You Know Who! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called you.”

“Well, you did,” you say exasperatedly, grabbing an antique-looking lamp and lightly placing it in the box of items to throw away.

“Tell me what happened, exactly. Don’t leave a single thing out!” Seungkwan barks, waving at you from across the room, where he’s dismantling a chair to put in the box.

In the middle of clearing out Seungkwan's damp furniture, your mind drifts back to yesterday afternoon, to the cafe where…

────୨ৎ────

…The soft hum of coffee grinders and the steady chatter of customers make you feel warm inside, easing the tension from earlier that morning. You sit across from Joshua at a tiny table near the main window, taking in how the late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his face. He looks like royalty, and you think you could watch him for forever.

He’s nursing a cappuccino, his slender fingers tracing absent patterns on the side of the mug, while you sip on a mocha latte, its foam already starting to lose its shape. Staring at the latte, you think it’s about time you moved on from small talk.

“You really didn’t have to pay for my drink,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction. It’s hard to argue with him when he wields his secret weapon every time.

He smiles, that same boyish, disarming grin he always gives you. “It’s just coffee. I get you one almost every day, y’know?”

“Yeah, but I was supposed to—”

“Exactly,” he interrupts, eyes sparkling. “Think of it as payback. For all the mornings you made brighter just by showing up.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, heat spreading down your neck as you lower your gaze to the coffee table, suddenly fascinated by the faint scratch marks on its surface. “You’re too nice,” you manage, the words feeling as flimsy as tissue paper.

“Only to you,” he says, and though his tone is light, the words feel impossibly heavy. Like they’re carrying something you’re both too afraid to name.

Your heart twists violently as your eyes snap up to meet his. The way he’s looking at you—steady, unyielding—makes your breath hitch. This is Joshua, you remind yourself, the nicest guy you’ve ever met. And yet, you can’t ignore the way it feels like he’s waiting for something. For you.

“You don’t mean that. I don’t believe that.” The words spill out before you can stop them, shaky and uneven. But even as you say them, a part of you aches with the knowledge that it’s not entirely true.

Because deep down, you want to believe him. You want to hold onto the idea that he’s different with you, that the warmth in his voice and the way he looks at you isn’t just another facet of his kindness but something more.

But that hope is dangerous.

If you believe him and you’re wrong—if this is just Joshua being Joshua, warm and selfless to everyone he meets—it’ll break you. So instead, you tell yourself that it’s impossible. That he can’t mean it.

You clutch onto every reason why: the way he always holds the door open for others, how he buys coffee for the entire team sometimes, the way he seems to know exactly what to say to make anyone smile. It’s who he is, you think, not just with you.

The idea of reading too much into his words—of exposing your heart only to realize you’ve misunderstood everything—is unbearable. So you push it away, burying the small flicker of hope before it has a chance to grow.

But even as you deny him, there’s a quiver in your voice, a hesitation that gives you away.

He leans forward slightly, his arms resting on the table, shrinking the distance between you. “You should. Don’t you ever wonder why?”

Your breath catches. His words hang in the air, heavy and charged, and for a second, you think he’s about to say something that will upend everything you’ve convinced yourself to believe about him.

“Joshua, I—”

Before you can finish, your phone buzzes loudly on the table, shattering the moment.

You scramble to grab it, breaking eye contact as you glance at the screen.

It reads: “Kwannie Kwannie Kwannie.”

You sigh deeply but answer the call, putting the phone to your ear. “What?”

“Help!” Seungkwan’s voice comes through in a panicked shriek. You take the phone a few inches away from your ear, wincing at the sound, then stiffen. His tone did not sound like one of his regular, made-up crises. Bringing your phone closer to your ear, you hear him shout. “My apartment’s flooding! There’s water up to my knees, my coach is floating! I don’t know what to do! Jihoon’s useless with this kind of stuff, and you’re the only person who knows where my emergency shutoff is—”

“Okay, okay, breathe. 4-7-8 method. I’ll be right there,” you say, shooting up from your chair.

Joshua watches you, his brows knitting together in concern. “Everything okay?”

“Seungkwan’s apartment is flooding. I have to go help him,” you explain, grabbing your bag.

“I’ll come with you,” he immediately offers, already standing.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” You force a smile, though you’re still buzzing with the tension of whatever had just happened. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Before he can respond, you rush out the door, heart racing—not just from Seungkwan’s crisis, but from the words Joshua almost said. You hear him calling your name, but you’re unable to bring yourself to look back, afraid you’d cave.

If you had, you would’ve seen a crestfallen Joshua still standing by the table, frozen in place...

────୨ৎ────

...Seungkwan drops a chair leg.

If the water hadn’t already been drained (by you, yesterday, when you figured out how to use Seungkwan’s emergency shutoff valve), the metal leg would have made a small splash and floated in knee-deep waters. Instead, it fell obnoxiously loudly onto Seungkwan’s hardwood floor, ringing throughout the half-empty apartment with full force.

“Ah! Seungkwan!” You jump, nearly dropping your drill, which you had been using to unscrew the legs of the coffee table while retelling what had happened Tuesday afternoon.

“He was about to confess,” Seungkwan says slowly and robotically, as if caught in a trance.

You can’t bring yourself to deny it.

“He was about to confess,” he repeats.

Letting out a major sigh, you hop up onto the dining table, tapping it. “You know, we have to dismantle this too.”

“He was about to confess!” His sudden shout startles you again. “And where the hell is Woozi when we need him?”

“Probably on his way, as he was when you checked 20 minutes ago?” you say dryly.

“He needs to get a load of this. I was right!” Seungkwan waves the chair leg in the air triumphantly, far too close to the ceiling for comfort.

“Dude,” you laugh, “you’re going to scratch the ceiling, put it down!”

Seungkwan pouts. “But this is my victory leg.”

“Tell that to Woozi,” you grin. “I think you should show him the leg, first thing.”

He lights up. “Excellent idea.”

All of a sudden, you hear someone knocking on Seungkwan’s door. Jumping off of the table, you skip across the living room down to the narrow main hallway. Once you reach the door, you crack it open a few inches—as far as the chain link will let you.

“Woozi, you’re so late!” Your face breaks out into a smile upon seeing your friend.

“My bad,” Jihoon says with a chuckle.

“`Y’know, Kwannie has a big surprise for you?”

“I can’t wait,” he says with a sigh. “How bad is the damage?”

“See for yourself.” You take down the chain lock and swing the door fully open with a smile, only to falter at the sight of the one person you thought you’d successfully avoided all day.

Joshua.

For there he was.

“Here to help,” he says shyly, hands folded behind his back.

You give Jihoon a panicked look.

Jihoon explains, “I was heading out of the office when I caught him in the hallway. He said he was down to help Seungkwan, and I figured the more, the merrier.”

The sight of Joshua standing in Seungkwan’s doorway makes your stomach drop. It’s like all the tension from earlier has come rushing back in, this time amplified by the unexpectedness of his arrival.

You plaster on a polite smile, though you’re sure it looks more like a grimace. “Great,” you manage to choke out, turning on autopilot to lead him and Jihoon down the hallway.

But inside, your thoughts are spiraling. What is he doing here? Does he know you’ve been avoiding him all day? Did Jihoon tell him anything on the way over?

Your chest tightens as you think about Seungkwan waiting in the living room, blissfully unaware of Joshua’s presence. You can already imagine the chaos—Seungkwan, ever the open book, accidentally blurting out something incriminating.

What if he says something about the coffee shop? What if he mentions the way you couldn’t stop talking about Joshua just now?

You’re half a step ahead of them, your mind racing through ways to keep the situation from unraveling, but drawing nothing but blanks.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Joshua. He’s walking casually beside Jihoon, his hands tucked into his pockets, a beanie snug on his head. He looks different, less polished than usual, but still effortlessly himself. And for a moment, you falter.

Because despite your panic, there’s a part of you that’s almost glad he’s here. A part of you that can’t help but wonder what it means that he came at all.

When you reach the living room, you come to a hard stop, frantically making a small X with your arms.

But Seungkwan has his attention focused on that blasted chair leg, and of course, he immediately opens with: “Guess who has the biggest news of all time! The biggest action since the Great Orange Plaza Incident—”

Cue the obnoxiously loud laughter from you. “Joshua’s here! Say hi!”

Seungkwan turns to the hallway, where, indeed, Joshua is standing. Shocked, he drops the metal leg, and it announces its contact with the ground through a loud clang.

Wincing at the sound like earlier, you accidentally shift your body backward into someone behind you.

“Sorry,” you say, hoping it was Jihoon.

His arms come up to grasp your waist, holding you steady.

“No worries,” comes Joshua’s voice.

You shut your eyes, somehow both drowning in embarrassment and burning up at the spot where he’s touched you.

You quickly step out of his hold, trying not to let your flustered state show. “Right,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s go now.”

Joshua chuckles softly, his voice like velvet. “그래, 바로 가자.” Right, let’s go straight away.

Seungkwan, thankfully, is too caught up in his shock to notice the moment, though Jihoon raises a single eyebrow in quiet observation.

As you guide Joshua and Jihoon into the living room, you internally rehearse all the ways you can deflect or redirect the inevitable awkwardness. But before you can settle on anything, Joshua is already rolling up his sleeves. You avert your eyes from his biceps.

“What needs moving?” he asks.

You glance around the room, desperate for something to hand off to him. Your eyes land on the dining table—big, heavy, and far too ambitious for one person to handle. Perfect. “The dining table,” you say, trying to sound casual. “We need to get it downstairs to the lobby for pickup.”

Seungkwan perks up. “Oh, that thing’s a beast. Good luck.”

“I’ll help,” Joshua says immediately, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you.

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh, okay. You and Woozi can move it.”

But Jihoon smirks, catching on. “Actually, I just remembered I promised to help Seungkwan with,” his voice trails. “Something else. You’ve got this, right?”

Before you can protest, Jihoon grabs the metal chair leg and joins Seungkwan in the corner, leaving you and Joshua alone with the daunting table.

“Looks like it’s just us,” Joshua says, his teasing smile widening.

You swallow thickly, resigned. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

Together, you begin maneuvering the table toward the hallway. It’s heavy and awkward, and you struggle to find a good grip on the edges.

“Here,” Joshua says, dropping his side of the table and moving closer. His hands brush over yours as he adjusts your grip, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “That should help.”

The contact sends a jolt through you, but you force yourself to focus. “Thanks,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

By some miracle, the table fits in the elevator, though the tight space forces you and Joshua closer together. You’re much too aware of how little distance there is between you, the faint scent of his cologne making your heart race even faster.

“This reminds me of Monday morning,” Joshua says suddenly, his voice soft.

Your head snaps up to meet his gaze. What is he talking about? The elevator? The coat? Both?

He nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Your stomach twists. “What about it?” you ask cautiously.

His eyes searching yours. “I just,” he hesitates for a moment, before continuing. “I feel like we keep dancing around something. Don’t you?”

Your breath catches, and suddenly the space feels even smaller. “What do you mean?”

Joshua steps just a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I mean,” he pauses for a second or two before picking up again. “This. Us. I feel like there’s something you’re not saying. And I’m not sure if I should say it first.”

The elevator dings, announcing your arrival at the lobby, but neither of you moves.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Shua, I—”

Before you can finish, the doors slide open, and an older woman waiting outside peers in, her curious gaze snapping you both out of the moment.

“Uh, sorry,” you stammer, quickly stepping out with your end of the table.

Joshua follows, but you can feel his eyes on you, his earlier words hanging heavy in the air.

As the two of you set the table down near the designated pickup area, he leans in slightly, his voice low. “This isn’t over.”

Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest, but you force yourself to nod, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Okay.”

Even as you head back to Seungkwan’s apartment, your mind is racing with the possibilities of what he might say—and whether you’re ready to hear it.

As you reenter Seungkwan’s apartment, the weight of Joshua’s words hangs like a thick fog in the air. It’s almost suffocating, the way your heart beats erratically at the thought of what he might say next.

You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Joshua to be right behind you, but he's still out by the lobby. The sound of Seungkwan and Jihoon’s voices floats down the hallway as they continue their discussion, oblivious to the tension that’s spiraling in your chest.

You step inside, but you can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to change. Joshua’s words—“This isn’t over”—echo in your mind, repeating with every beat of your heart. What did he mean? What does he expect?

“Everything okay?” Seungkwan calls from the living room, looking up with a raised brow as you walk in.

“Yeah,” you chirp, trying to act normal, but your voice comes out too high.

He narrows his eyes. “You sure? You look a little off. Everything go well?” It’s unsaid, but you know there’s a “with Joshua” attached to the end of his sentence.

You force a smile, but it’s shaky at best. “Yeah, the table's gone now.” You can’t tell him. Not yet. Not with the weight of Joshua’s unspoken words still pressing against your chest.

Seungkwan studies you for a moment, his gaze flickering toward the hallway. “I’ll take your word for it. So, you two, huh?”

Your eyes widen involuntarily, and you try to laugh it off. “아니, 아니! 그런거 아니야, it’s really not like that.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, me and Jihoon are going to go to the bar. Want to come?”

The offer hangs in the air, and you realize, suddenly, that it’s the perfect distraction. You need space from your own thoughts. You need to calm your racing heart. Maybe getting out of here will help.

“I’ll go,” you blurt, before you can second-guess yourself. “Haven’t gone weekday drinking in a while. Let me just grab my bag.”

Seungkwan gives you a knowing look but says nothing more. As you step into the hallway to grab your bag off a high-hanging hook, your mind is still whirling with the unanswered questions about Joshua.

Walking further down the hallway, you find Seungkwan and Joshua standing near Jihoon.

Jihoon’s already at the door, his hand on the handle. “Come on, let’s go. I need some drinks in my system after today.”

You nod, attempting to shove your thoughts away for the night. The cool air outside greets you, and the cacophony of the city feels like a welcome distraction. As you make your way to the bar, Seungkwan and Jihoon immediately dive into their usual banter, but your mind is elsewhere. You keep glancing over at Joshua, who seems uncharacteristically quiet tonight, his usually playful energy subdued.

By the time you reach the bar and order drinks, you’re beginning to relax. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the fact that you don’t have to think about what’s going on between you and Joshua, but you can’t help but feel like you’re walking a thin line between tension and relief.

But as the night goes on, Seungkwan and Jihoon quickly fall into drunken antics, leaving you and Joshua alone on the quieter side of the bar. The air between you both is thick, like an invisible thread is pulling you closer, yet neither of you dares to speak.

You fiddle with your glass, wondering if you should speak up first. You only have so much courage, though.

Thankfully, Joshua clears his throat, his voice low. “넌 좀,” he hesitates for a bit, before deciding to call you out, “조용한데?”

Well, it’s no secret that you’re being quiet. He was, too, at least until now.

You glance up, meeting his gaze for the first time since earlier. His eyes are intense, his lips pulled into that soft, half-smile you know and adore.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang between you like a dare.

Joshua leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. “What part?”

Your heart races, but you hold his gaze. “About how this isn’t over?”

He’s quiet for a beat, then smiles—just a little. “I meant what I said.”

And in that moment, you realize you’re in way deeper than you thought.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest, like a stone sinking deep into water. You want to ask him more, to press him, to demand answers, but the words feel trapped in your throat. Instead, you look away, fidgeting with the rim of your glass, your fingers tracing the condensation. The alcohol has started to mellow your nerves, but the tension still hovers in the air between you two, thick and almost palpable.

“You’ve been quiet too,” you manage to say, keeping your voice steady despite the jittery feeling in your stomach. “What’s on your mind?”

Joshua doesn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering toward the noisy group in the corner where Seungkwan and Jihoon are laughing too loudly, practically leaning on each other for support. The laughter echoes in the background, a sharp contrast to the quiet bubble that has formed around you and Joshua.

It’s the kind of moment that feels too intimate, too close to the edge of something that could change everything.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, and his voice is soft, thoughtful. “I guess I’m trying to figure out if you’re really as clueless as you act, or if you’re just pretending.” His eyes meet yours, and there's something almost vulnerable in his gaze, a flicker of hesitation that’s rare for him.

You feel your heart skip a beat, caught off guard by the question. “Clueless?” You repeat, the word tasting strange on your tongue. “I’m not clueless.”

“그래? Are you sure about that?” he asks, his smile barely there, his tone teasing but with an edge of something else—something deeper.

You narrow your eyes, a little irritated by how easily he toys with you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and then immediately regret it. It sounds too defensive, too much like you’re trying to cover something up.

Joshua leans in slightly, his expression serious now, no longer playful. “I think you do. I think you’re scared.” His voice drops, barely above a whisper, but it lands like a truth you can’t deny. “You’re scared of what might happen if you admit what you feel.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The world feels like it slows down, the noise of the bar fading into the background as his words settle in your mind. The truth in them stings, and you don’t know how to respond.

He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it.

Not yet.

Not to him.

Before you can say anything, Seungkwan stumbles over, dragging Jihoon along with him. “You two are too quiet,” Seungkwan says with a grin, clearly tipsy. “What’s going on here? Trying to plot against us?”

Joshua straightens up quickly, his smile returning to its usual playful, disarming self. “Nothing like that, we were just talking,” he replies, his voice smooth and easy.

You take a deep breath, trying to push the moment away, but the tension still lingers in your chest. You force a smile, though it feels weak. “Yeah, just talking.”

Jihoon gives you both a sideways look, too drunk to notice the underlying current between you and Joshua. “You two really are something, huh?”

Seungkwan laughs, waving a hand as if dismissing Jihoon’s comment. “Yeah, yeah, don’t mind them. They’re just having a little ‘moment,’” he says, emphasizing the last word with air quotes.

You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Contrary to Seungkwan’s comment, the moment’s long gone now, robbed by the chaos of their antics. But you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted, that you and Joshua are standing on the edge of something—something both terrifying and irresistible.

And for the first time, you decide that you’re ready to see where it leads.

────୨ৎ──── Thursday

You wake up on Thursday with a start, the events from last night already feeling faraway. Joshua had dropped you off, and you had spent most of the night restlessly thinking of him, going over how to confess.

The bright morning light filters through the blinds, causing you to squint at the time on your alarm clock. It’s much earlier than you’d usually get up. You fight the urge to go back to sleep.

With resolve, you push yourself up off your bed and run through your morning routine with extra care. And by the time your last alarm rings, you’re ready to tell him.

You walk over to the front door, waiting for the telltale signs of movement coming from the apartment next door. Only, you hear nothing. Not even footsteps shuffling around.

Your elevator ride is silent. Your bus ride is silent.

Joshua had left before you’d even woken up—and you’d woken up pretty damn early—and his absence only made you more aware of the pressing silence between the two of you.

When you reach your cubicle, your eyes graze over the desk repeatedly, finding something is wrong.

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” Jihoon asks from the cubicle next to you.

“Nothing.” Everything.

You stare at the spot where Joshua puts a cup of coffee from the cafe next door every day. It’s empty.

“설마,” you whisper. No way. Did he decide to drop you because you didn’t answer him? But what else could explain his radio silence? You haven’t gone to work alone in over a month.

“설마 what?” Seungkwan asks, dropping into his office chair to the left of you at 9 on the dot.

When you don’t answer, he asks Jihoon, “What’s going on over here?”

Jihoon shrugs. “Probably drama with You Know Who.”

“Oh,” he says, and the two of them drop it.

Before you know it, the clock has hit 5pm, and you’ve spent the entire workday soullessly typing on your keyboard, lifting your head up every time you’ve seen movement in the room. Only, the man you were looking for was nowhere to be seen.

You miss the stolen glances and bright smiles you used to exchange. The silence had been stifling. You really did want to talk to him, to clear the air today, but he just never showed. Heart sinking, you pack up your bag and put on your coat. You stall for a moment remembering how he’d given you his coat just a few days prior. Did he really decide to give up because you weren’t responding well?

The bus ride back to your apartment is silent, but your head is full of speculative thoughts. When the driver announces your stop, your heart settles into a newfound determination.

Maybe he could let go, but you can’t. You won’t let him go.

“I’ll just barge in! Say my piece, then let him talk,” you mumble under your breath, pushing the lobby doors open.

Is it a good plan? You aren’t sure, but hopefully he’d forgive you for being hesitant for so long. You honestly don’t know how he did it—how he was able to stand your wishy-washiness?

Eyes tracing the ground, you make a beeline for the elevator, continuing your whispers. “And what am I going to say? God, I need a good opening line. Something like, please please take me back? Actually, we were never dating, so I guess that doesn’t make sense. Please please like me back? Is that too desperate? Well, I am desperate, so—”

Out of the corner, you see the elevator beginning to close.

“Hold the doors, please!” you shout, running as fast as you can. Speed is of the essence, so you can confront him as soon as possible.

You make it across half the lobby in record time, panting as you enter the elevator.

“Thank,” you say in between breaths, hands on your knees, “you—”

When you look up, your heart stops.

Joshua Hong. Dressed dapper in an all black suit and carrying, of all things, a briefcase?

“Shua?” you say breathlessly, immediately straightening.

Joshua looks down, his usual calm expression faltering for just a second when he sees you out of breath. For a moment, the two of you simply stand there in silence, the elevator’s gentle hum filling the space between you.

“Where were you?” you ask, your voice quieter than you'd intended, a hint of nervousness creeping in despite your earlier determination.

Joshua clears his throat, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Director Chun had me accompany him to the Lee meeting. You?” he asks, his gaze softening as he watches you catch your breath.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. The reality of the situation hits you hard.

This was it.

This was the moment.

But now that you’re face to face with him, you’re unsure of what to say. You should’ve prepared a real speech, practiced your words properly. Instead, the dreaded silence lingers.

“I,” your voice trails off. “I just—” You let out a shaky breath, then shake your head as if to clear the mess of thoughts swirling inside. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About things. About us.”

Joshua tilts his head slightly, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “About us?”

You nod, trying to steady your breath. The elevator seems to be going slower than usual, as if the universe itself is giving you more time to process, to speak. You feel a strange mix of nerves and determination pushing you forward.

“I didn’t handle things right. I was,” you pause for a moment, carefully choosing your next words. “Unsure. Confused. And I thought maybe if I stayed quiet, I’d be able to ignore everything. But I can’t,” you say, the words finally coming out in a rush. “I can’t ignore you. I don’t want to.”

Joshua’s eyes soften, his posture shifting, his briefcase clutched tightly in his hands. “You’re not the only one who’s been confused,” he admits, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t know what to do either, but I couldn’t let you slip away without at least trying. I care about you. A lot.”

The elevator jerks suddenly, and you both look up in surprise as the lights flicker. A loud noise rings through the space, and with a groan, the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. You both freeze, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“Shit,” you gasp, instinctively taking a step back from the elevator doors, but your foot catches in a brief moment of panic, and before you know it, you’re pulled toward Joshua.

He catches you effortlessly, his hand impossibly warm at your back, steadying you as you stumble. “괜찮아?” His voice is gentle but concerned.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, him holding you in his arms, your heart still racing from the shock. Then you both realize the situation. No Wi-Fi. No way to call for help. Just the two of you, stuck in this tiny box, the tension thick in the air. The sound of your heavy breathing fills the silence as the elevator remains motionless.

Joshua clears his throat, his voice teasing again. “Well, if you think about it, this isn’t that new.”

In response, you lightly laugh, thinking back to all the times throughout the week where he's kept you steady. The you of Monday morning never would have thought you’d be in this position now, not to mention the you of two months ago.

You glance up at him, mind still racing. The unexpected turn of events had thrust you into a corner. And yet, in some strange way, you felt it was just the kind of moment the two of you needed.

Alone.

No distractions.

No running away.

“Well, at least we have some time to talk now, huh?” you say with a small, tentative smile.

Joshua meets your gaze, his eyes full of understanding. “Yeah. Looks like we do.”

And for the first time in days, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it feels like an opportunity, a moment to finally clear the air.

────୨ৎ──── Friday

You’ve been in the elevator for hours, but it doesn’t feel like it. Somehow, conversation just flows.

“I liked you first,” you find yourself saying, voice barely above a whisper as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“그래?” comes Joshua’s soft reply, so close that you can feel the vibrations in his chest. Really?

You can’t believe he even has to ask. Yes, really. You were so obvious about it. So affected by him that you couldn’t even look at the stuffed bunny he’d gotten you on Sunday, reminded of his soft, kind eyes.

So you nod, “Mm-hm.”

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, your body still adjusting to the peaceful rhythm of being near him. You’d been thinking about this for the longest time, but now it feels so natural, so certain, and you can’t help but regret all the time you’d spent secretly pining over him. God, you’d even asked him to stop being so nice to you out of pure desperation. Who does that?

“Since when?” His voice is smooth, warm, like a soft melody, and you can’t help but feel drowsy with the way it lulls you into comfort.

You pause, eyes drifting to the floor of the elevator as you try to gather your thoughts. “Since when?” you repeat, the memory taking you back.

It was a chaotic day, the kind of day where everything felt so loud and full of people. You were at that welcome party for the new transfer—Joshua—but it had been too overwhelming. So, you’d slipped away, finding solace in the quiet of the cafe next door. You’d gotten a coffee to-go, and you sat outside on a bench, letting the world pass you by as you listened to your audiobook. That was your kind of perfect Saturday.

You never saw him that day.

But you did see him a week later, in the hallway of your apartment building. You’d just locked your door, ready to head out when you noticed the man next door fumbling with his own keys. His moving process had seemed slow, but that day, you finally got to exchange quick introductions before stepping into the elevator together. And somehow, in that brief exchange, you found yourself already falling, the way his laugh filled the space between you, the way you both laughed at the coincidences stacking up—the apartment, the floor, the building, the department. It was electric, the start of something special.

You glance up at him now, still leaning against his shoulder. “When we first met, in the hallway,” you finally say, voice soft.

Joshua smiles, a glint of fondness in his eyes. “That was when we first met?”

You furrow your brows, confused. “Wasn’t it?”

Joshua laughs quietly, the sound like a comforting hum in the otherwise still elevator. “I remember differently,” he says, poking your cheek gently.

You tilt your head. “If not the hallway, what was it?”

“The first day I came here, sweets,” he says, his fingers brushing a lock of your hair from your face.

Your mind races, wondering if you’ve forgotten an important memory. “But we didn’t meet, did we?”

Joshua hums, the kind of hum that carries a story behind it. “I guess you didn’t see me, but I saw you.”

You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “When?”

He leans back slightly, eyes distant as if replaying the scene in his head. “I remember being bombarded by all the office workers. God, it was so chaotic. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out, so I said some BS excuse about needing a drink.” He chuckles softly, then his expression shifts, softer now. “I went to the drink station by the window, grabbed whatever they had, and just stared out. I was wondering how long I could hide before it was socially acceptable to go home, when I saw you.”

You shift, intrigued by his words.

“You sat outside on the bench. You weren’t even aware of the crowd inside, just focused on,” he pauses, thinking of the right word, before continuing, “Existing? Listening to something, I guess. I watched you for a while. You were so still, so peaceful in the middle of all that noise. It made me stop and think. I’ve never really done that before. I’ve always been in ‘go, go, go’ mode. But there you were, just being, and I don’t know. I think that’s when I started thinking about you.”

His words settle over you like a blanket, warm and unexpected.

“I decided then to keep giving you coffee after that,” Joshua adds with a shrug. “You’re my elevator to my small enlightenment, if you will. You made me slow down, sweets.”

At that, your heart flutters in your chest. “I never knew,” you murmur. “I thought you were just nice to everyone. All this time, you’ve been looking at me like I’ve been looking at you.”

Joshua smiles softly, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve been thinking about you for a lot longer than you’ve been thinking of me.”

“Only a week!” you protest.

Joshua’s eyes shine as he looks at you, crinkling into crescents. His hands steadily clasp yours, thumb rubbing against the back of your left hand. “Still think I’m too nice?”

“No,” you say, burying your face in his chest. “Keep being nice to me.”

When the elevator finally dings, and you can hear firefighters shouting things past the doors, it’s a few minutes past 12am. But neither of you moves, content in making up for lost time late into the night.

Masterlist

Author's Note: yes they were stuck in an elevator for like 7 hours from thurs after work to midnight, 내 마음이야

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone

2K notes · View notes

thedensworld · 22 days ago

Text

Practice Makes Perfect | K.Mg

Genre: fluff, dad au!, pregnancy au!, smut (mdni!)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Practice makes perfect. Determined to be an amazing father for his child, Mingyu threw himself wholeheartedly into parenthood even before the baby was born.

Mingyu froze in place as he stared at the text on his phone. It was the middle of dance practice for the end-of-year performance, and sweat dripped down his temple as he tried to catch his breath during the short break. Reaching for his water bottle, he noticed an unread message from you. That was unusual—you hardly ever texted him. You’d once laughed and said it felt unnecessary since you saw each other so often.

Curiosity piqued, he unlocked his phone, expecting something casual, maybe a quick update or a question. Instead, his eyes widened as he read your words. His heart skipped a beat, and his hand flew to cover his mouth. A sharp, audible gasp escaped him, breaking the chatter and drawing the attention of the other members.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mingyu, are you okay?”

Seungkwan was the first to rush over, crouching down in front of him. Mingyu wordlessly handed his phone over, unable to speak. His legs felt like jelly, and he sank to the floor, his back against the wall as the weight of your message settled over him.

Seungkwan’s eyes scanned the screen, his brows furrowing before his mouth fell open. “No way,” he mumbled, disbelief laced in his voice. Then, louder, “Y/n is pregnant.”

The practice room erupted into chaos as gasps and cheers rang out in unison.

“What?!”

“No way, really?!”

“Congrats, man!”

The members swarmed around Mingyu, their excitement palpable. They clapped him on the back, ruffled his hair, and threw him into a whirlwind of congratulations. But Mingyu still sat frozen, his mind racing.

“Y/n’s pregnant…” he muttered to himself, his voice shaky but filled with awe. The reality of it hit him like a tidal wave, and suddenly, his lips curled into a dazed smile. His hands trembled as he took his phone back from Seungkwan, rereading the text as if to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

“You’re gonna be a dad!” Soonyoung exclaimed, shaking Mingyu’s shoulders enthusiastically.

“Have you called her yet?” Jeonghan asked, already planning a celebratory dinner in his head.

“Let him process first,” Seungcheol said with a laugh, though even he couldn’t hide the proud grin tugging at his lips.

Mingyu finally looked up, his eyes glossy with emotion. “I’m… I’m going to be a dad,” he repeated, this time louder, as if saying it out loud would help him believe it.

“And you’re going to be a great one,” Joshua reassured him, his voice calm amidst the excitement.

The practice room turned into an impromptu celebration, with the members already making plans for baby gifts and teasing Mingyu about what kind of dad he’d be. But Mingyu was too busy typing a shaky reply to you, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

Mingyu didn’t waste a second after practice. The moment it ended, he grabbed his bag and practically sprinted out the door, ignoring the playful shouts from his bandmates. His mind raced the entire drive home, replaying your text over and over. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and by the time he reached the apartment, his heart was thudding so hard he could barely hear anything else.

The door clicked open, and he immediately spotted you curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a blanket draped over you. You looked up when you heard him, a smile spreading across your face as you started to sit up.

“Babe, you’re—”

Before you could finish, Mingyu crossed the room in long, determined strides and pulled you into his arms. His hug was so tight it felt like he was trying to fuse you into him. “Love,” he breathed, his voice trembling slightly as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Mingyu,” you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too, but what’s going on?”

He leaned back just enough to look at you, his brows drawn together in the most exaggerated pout you’d ever seen. “Why did you have to drop the news like that, love? By text? You’re killing me here.”

You blinked at him, a small grin tugging at your lips. “I thought it’d be easier—”

“Easier?” He scoffed, his hands sliding down to grip your waist as he stared at you in disbelief. “Easier for who? I almost collapsed on the studio floor when I read it. I was this close to crying in front of the members.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, cupping his face. “I didn’t mean to shock you, babe. I just… didn’t know how to say it.”

“Say it?” he repeated, shaking his head as he leaned closer. “You tell me in person. You look me in the eyes, love, and tell me I’m going to be a dad. That’s how you say it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty now. “I know. I’m sorry, baby. I just got nervous.”

You held Mingyu's hands in yours, your fingers trembling slightly as you took a deep breath. Looking up into his eyes, you mustered the courage to speak, your voice soft but filled with emotion. “We’re having a child, Mingyu. You’re going to be a dad.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened, glistening with unshed tears as the weight of your words sank in. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just staring at you with pure awe. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, he cradled your face in his large hands, his thumbs gently brushing over your cheeks.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and comforting, before leaning down to capture yours in a soft, heartfelt kiss.

Tears started streaming down your cheeks, and you let out a shaky laugh as you wiped them away with the back of your hand. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you in person,” you said with a small pout, your voice breaking slightly. “I knew I’d cry like this.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his hands slid down to rest on your shoulders. “Love, if you think I’m not crying right now too, you’re wrong.”

You blinked, realizing his eyes were indeed glossy, a few stray tears slipping down his cheeks. It made your heart swell even more, knowing how deeply he felt about this.

“Babe,” you murmured, reaching up to wipe his tears with your thumb.

He smiled, leaning into your touch, his hands moving to rest gently on your stomach. “You’re carrying our baby. How could I not cry? This is the happiest moment of my life.”

Your pout melted into a soft smile, and you placed your hands over his, feeling the warmth of his touch. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Mingyu. I just know it.”

“And you’re going to be the best mom,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction. He leaned down again, resting his forehead against yours as his hands stayed firmly in place over your stomach. “I’m going to take care of you both, love. You and our baby. Always.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you felt a deep sense of security and love. In that moment, you knew this was only the beginning of something extraordinary—a journey you would face together, hand in hand, as a family.

Mingyu had always imagined this moment—the day you’d tell him you were carrying his child. For years, he’d dreamt of it, picturing how he would be the most attentive, loving husband, ready to spoil you and your little one with everything he had. Now that it was finally happening, the reality was even sweeter than his imagination.

The two of you had been married for years, and trying for a child had been a journey of hope, patience, and longing. When it finally happened, Mingyu was nothing short of ecstatic. This new chapter in your lives felt like a gift, a blessing that he was determined to cherish with every fiber of his being.

From the very next day, Mingyu slipped seamlessly into his role as the doting husband and soon-to-be dad. He started waking up earlier than you every morning, tiptoeing out of the bedroom to prepare breakfast. He’d make sure it was filled with all the nutrients you needed, carefully laying out the food and your pregnancy milk on the table before waking you up with a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning, love,” he’d whisper, his voice laced with warmth. “Breakfast is ready, and so is your milk. You need to eat well for our baby, okay?”

Mingyu also developed a nightly ritual, one that you couldn’t help but find adorable. Before sleeping, he’d lean down, placing his hands gently on your stomach and speaking softly to your growing baby.

“Hey there, little one,” he’d say, his voice filled with tenderness. “Mom is going to sleep now, so be good, okay? Let her rest. I’ll take care of her, so don’t you worry.”

Sometimes, you’d catch him smiling to himself as he talked, his eyes sparkling with excitement and love. He would even sneak in little promises to the baby, like how he’d teach them how to cook or build the best pillow forts when they were older.

Mingyu also insisted on being by your side for every doctor’s appointment. He cleared his schedule without hesitation, making sure nothing would stop him from being there for you. During the visits, he’d sit beside you, his hand holding yours tightly as he listened intently to the doctor’s updates.

“Is this normal?” he’d ask, pointing at the ultrasound or a note in the medical chart. “What about her nutrition? Does she need more vitamins? How can I make sure she’s comfortable at home?”

His questions were endless, and you could see how serious he was about ensuring everything went smoothly. Though you sometimes teased him for being overly concerned, you couldn’t deny how much it warmed your heart to see how deeply he cared.

Mingyu’s excitement was contagious, filling your days with laughter and love. Whether it was reading parenting books together, shopping for baby clothes, or simply lying in bed and imagining the future, every moment felt magical with him by your side.

“I’ve waited so long for this, love,” he’d say, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as you rested against his chest. “You and our baby mean everything to me. I promise to give you both the best life I can.”

One evening, Mingyu burst through the front door, his face lit up with excitement, holding a small pot in his hands. You were curled up on the couch, reading, but his dramatic entrance made you look up with curiosity.

“Love!” he called out enthusiastically, making his way over to you. “I have a plan!”

You raised an eyebrow, closing your book and setting it aside. “A plan?” you asked, eyeing the pot he was holding. “What’s this about?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Mingyu placed the pot on the coffee table. Inside was a tiny green sprout, barely poking out of the soil. “We’re going to raise this plant together,” he announced proudly.

You blinked, trying to process his sudden enthusiasm. “A plant?” you repeated, your lips twitching into a smile. “Why a plant?”

“It’s practice!” he explained, sitting beside you and taking your hands in his. “Before our baby arrives, we can use this little guy to learn how to take care of something together. Watering it, making sure it gets sunlight… it’s like a warm-up for parenting!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he sounded. “Babe, you do realize a plant is not even close to the same as raising a child, right?”

“I know,” he said, undeterred, his excitement unwavering. “But it’s a start! Plus, I read somewhere that taking care of plants is good for relieving stress and boosting your mood. And with you carrying our baby, I thought it might be nice to have something green and alive around us.”

You tilted your head, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. “That’s actually really sweet,” you admitted, reaching out to touch the sprout’s leaves gently. “What kind of plant is it?”

“A money tree,” Mingyu said, his grin widening. “It’s supposed to bring good luck and positive energy. I figured we could use all the good vibes we can get for this next chapter.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at how thoughtful he was. “Alright, fine. Let’s raise this plant together.”

Mingyu’s face lit up as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “That’s my girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Over the next few days, Mingyu was more serious about the plant than you could’ve imagined. He gave it a name—Lucky—and made sure it had the perfect spot by the window for sunlight. He even set reminders on his phone to water it on schedule.

“Lucky’s looking great today,” he’d say, inspecting the leaves like a proud dad.

You watched him with amusement, realizing how this little plant had somehow become a symbol of his excitement for fatherhood. “If you’re this attentive with a plant, I can’t even imagine how amazing you’ll be with our baby,” you told him one evening.

Mingyu looked at you, his eyes softening. “It’s because I have the best partner to do this with,” he said, pulling you close and resting a hand on your belly. “And soon, we’ll have the best little team member to join us.”

Lucky might’ve been just a plant, but it became a small reminder of how much love Mingyu already had for the life you were building together.

"No, love. The last time we did it, you got cramps," Mingyu said firmly, gently pulling himself away from your embrace even as your lips brushed against his neck, sending shivers down his spine. His hands rested lightly on your arms, his concern etched clearly on his face.

"Nothing will happen this time, I promise," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin, making it nearly impossible for him to resist. Your voice was soft but persuasive, and the way your lips lingered so teasingly made his resolve waver.

Mingyu let out a shaky sigh, his eyes flickering between worry and longing. "Love… you say that, but what if you get hurt again? You're carrying our baby. I can't risk anything." His voice was low, filled with a mix of tenderness and frustration as he tried to hold his ground.

You cupped his face, your eyes locking onto his with determination. "Babe, you're always so careful with me. But trust me, I'm okay. Nothing will happen."

He hesitated, the intensity of your gaze weighing heavily on him, and as he looked into your eyes, he saw the desire, need, and love mirrored in their depths. Mingyu sighed softly, surrendering to your request, even if it meant pushing past his own doubts. "Alright, but promise you'll tell me if anything's wrong."

A smile bloomed on your lips as you felt his arms wrap around you once more. "I promise, and thank you."

You leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss, your tongues entwining, and in that moment, everything else faded away, leaving just the two of you, connected in the most intimate way. "You're making it so hard for me, love," Mingyu whispered against your lips, his hands now gently roaming over your curves as he began to guide you back towards the comfort of the bed.

As you lay on the bed, your body gently rising with each breath, Mingyu moved behind you, his hands resting on your swollen stomach. He looked down at the tiny life growing within you and couldn't help but smile, a feeling of protectiveness surging through him.

"You're so beautiful, love," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and love. You turned slightly to face him, a playful glint in your eye as you reached out for him.

"I want you, Mingyu. I need you," you said softly, your fingers trailing along his chest. Your body tingled with desire as you felt him responding to your touch, his heartbeat quickening, and the bulge in his pants growing more prominent.

He leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft against yours, but his tongue explored your mouth with urgency. He broke the kiss and trailed hot, wet kisses along your jawline and down your neck, nipping softly at your skin, causing you to arch your back and moan softly.

Mingyu began to undress you, his eyes never leaving your body, drinking in every curve and change. The sight of his love, pregnant and wanting him, was enough to set him on fire. He quickly stripped down, eager to be as close to you as possible.

Positioning himself behind you, he ran his hand over your bump and then down to your lower back. "How do you want this, love?" he asked, his breath hot on your ear, making shivers race down your spine.

You shifted onto your side, facing him, and patted the spot next to you on the bed. "Make me feel loved, baby," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

He grinned and moved to lay next to you, his arm resting on the bed behind you as he pulled you close, your heads nearly touching. His hand began to gently massage your swollen breasts through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The sensation caused your nipples to stiffen, and you let out a soft moan.

Mingyu slid one hand down your side, under your gown, his fingers gently parting your thighs as he began to stroke the damp skin there. You bit your lip and leaned into his touch, your desire growing with each gentle caress.

Slowly, Mingyu lifted your gown over your stomach, revealing the lace of your panties. He brushed a finger along the wet fabric, teasing you before hooking it and slowly sliding it down your legs.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked again, his eyes filled with concern.

You nodded, your voice caught in the thick heat filling the room. "Yes, I want you," you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

With gentle precision, Mingyu aligned himself at your entrance. He pressed in slowly, allowing your body to adjust, his pace unhurried and full of love. Once fully inside you, he began to move, his hips rocking gently at first, but picking up speed as your moans grew more insistent.

Your hands gripped the sheets as the pleasure built, your body responding to his rhythmic thrusts. The connection between the two of you was palpable, love and lust intertwined, driving you both higher.

As the climax approached, Mingyu whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a balm to your soul even as the waves of ecstasy threatened to consume you. "You're mine, and I'm yours," he breathed against your skin.

With a cry of joy, you came undone, your body trembling as Mingyu followed moments later, filling you with his warmth. The two of you lay there, intertwined, the warmth of your shared passion enveloping you both as you basked in the afterglow.

"You’re so into me these days," Mingyu teased, a playful grin on his lips as he pulled you into a soft kiss. His warm hands gently caressed your six-months-swollen belly, his touch filled with love and care.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it’s because you’re so irresistible, babe,” you replied, your voice dripping with mock sarcasm as you leaned into his touch.

He chuckled, the sound deep and comforting, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “I’m not complaining,” he murmured, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles over your belly. “It just makes me happy knowing you want me close all the time.”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head,” you said, your tone teasing but laced with affection. “It’s not just me. Someone else is pretty fond of you too.” You gestured to your belly, earning a wide grin from Mingyu as he leaned down to kiss it gently.

“Of course they are,” he said, his voice soft and full of adoration. “They know they’ve got the best dad in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Confident much?”

“Just stating facts, love,” he replied cheekily, giving you a playful wink before sitting back.

Feeling bold, you slipped your arms around his neck and nuzzled close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “How about we do it again, babe?”

Mingyu froze for a moment, his breath hitching at your words, but then he let out an awkward cough. “Uh… love, I’d really love to, but…”

You pulled back, narrowing your eyes at his suddenly flustered expression. “But what?”

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. “I haven’t watered Lucky today,” he mumbled, almost too quiet for you to hear.

You blinked at him, completely caught off guard. “You’re kidding, right? You’re turning me down because of a plant?”

“It’s not just a plant!” Mingyu protested, his voice rising in mock indignation. “Lucky is part of the family now. I have to make sure they’re taken care of too!”

You stared at him, a mix of disbelief and amusement spreading across your face. “Mingyu, Lucky doesn’t care if you’re late watering it by an hour. I, on the other hand, do care if my husband chooses a tree over me.”

Mingyu’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh, but the look on your face was too much. He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “Okay, okay, you’re right,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Lucky can wait. You’re my top priority.”

“Damn right I am,” you huffed, crossing your arms, though a smile was already tugging at your lips.

Mingyu leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You know I can’t resist you, love,” he murmured, his voice warm. “But don’t blame me if Lucky looks a little sad tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes again, finally giving in to his teasing. “Fine, I’ll forgive you. But you’re watering Lucky first thing in the morning.”

“Deal,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer into his arms. “Now, where were we?”

"No! Now, I'm not in the mood." you snapped, crossing your arms and turning away from Mingyu.

Mingyu stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic pout as he watched you. You were sitting on the nursery room floor, your eight-month-pregnant belly making it slightly awkward for you to lean forward, but you were stubbornly twisting the screws to attach the crib legs.

"Love, please," Mingyu tried again, his voice soft but tinged with desperation. "I'll do it. You should be resting."

You didn't even glance at him, your focus entirely on the task at hand. "You had your chance," you muttered, twisting the screwdriver a bit more aggressively than necessary. "Twice. But you were too busy giving Lucky a pep talk."

Mingyu’s pout deepened. He shifted from one foot to the other, staring helplessly at you. "I wasn’t giving Lucky a pep talk. I was just making sure it knew I was proud of it for growing so well."

You paused, finally looking up at him, your expression deadpan. "So proud that you ignored me when I asked you to help?"

"I didn’t ignore you! I just—" Mingyu’s voice faltered, and he let out a sigh, stepping closer. "Love, I’m sorry. I just… I’m trying to be good at this dad thing."

"And I’m trying to make sure our baby doesn’t roll out of a half-finished crib because someone was busy with their plant," you shot back, though your tone had softened slightly.

"That’s not going to happen," Mingyu mumbled, crouching down beside you. "Please let me do it. Please. I promise I won’t get distracted again."

You held his gaze for a moment, then sighed, handing him the screwdriver. "Fine. But I’m watching. And if you talk to Lucky even once, I’m taking over again."

"Deal!" Mingyu’s face lit up with relief, and he immediately got to work, his hands moving with careful precision.

But not even a minute later, as he tightened a bolt, he whispered under his breath, "Lucky, wish me luck."

You shot him a glare. "Mingyu!"

"I’m kidding! I’m kidding!" he yelped, flashing you an apologetic grin. "Focus on the crib. Got it."

"Love, it's been six months since Lucky joined our little family. Learn to love it," Mingyu said with a gentle chuckle, carefully aligning the crib legs as he secured them, making sure each screw was tightened properly.

You stood beside him, arms crossed, watching his focused expression with a mix of affection and mild annoyance. "It keeps stealing my husband's attention from me. What do you expect?" you muttered, the faintest pout on your lips.

Mingyu paused, glancing up at you, his smile widening as amusement danced in his eyes. "You do realize that you'll get hate from plant lovers if you ever say that in public, love," he teased, turning his gaze back to the crib.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile betrayed your sulking. "Well, maybe I should go on record. ‘My husband is obsessed with a plant,’" you quipped, earning a soft laugh from Mingyu.

"Obsessed is a strong word," he defended, wiping his hands on his sweatpants as he straightened up. "I just like making sure Lucky is happy and healthy. It's… calming."

"Calming for you. Frustrating for me," you countered, leaning against the wall. "Every time I ask for help, you’re too busy whispering sweet nothings to a tree."

Mingyu's eyes widened, a playful look of shock crossing his face. "Sweet nothings? Love, those are words of encouragement! Lucky needs positive energy to grow."

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. "Oh, so the tree needs encouragement, but your pregnant wife has to practically beg for help?"

Mingyu quickly closed the gap between you, his large hands cupping your face gently. "Hey, that’s not fair. You know I’d choose you over Lucky any day." His thumbs brushed your cheeks, his warm gaze filled with affection. "And you know I’m only teasing, right? I’m here for you. Always."

You sighed, leaning into his touch, your irritation melting away. "You just know how to sweet-talk your way out of anything, don’t you?"

He grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Only when it’s you, love."

You had just woken up from a brief three-hour sleep, your body heavy with exhaustion. Last night had been a test of patience—Minji, only three weeks old, had decided to shake the world awake with her cries, stubbornly refusing to sleep at three in the morning. You had spent the next three hours cradling her in your arms, humming soft lullabies until she finally surrendered to slumber.

Now, it was nine o’clock. You stepped out of your bedroom, the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, and the sight in the living room instantly melted your fatigue. Mingyu was sprawled on the couch, his head tilted awkwardly to one side, his mouth slightly open in a deep sleep. Minji lay peacefully on his chest, her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, a little drool pooling at the corner of her lips. Her gentle breathing rose and fell in perfect sync with Mingyu’s, a quiet, heartwarming rhythm.

A tender smile tugged at your lips. Careful not to wake either of them, you leaned down, gently lifting Minji from Mingyu’s chest. She stirred slightly but remained asleep, her tiny face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. With Minji safely cradled in one arm, you made your way to the kitchen, the cool tiles beneath your feet grounding you as you began preparing breakfast.

But just as you cracked an egg into the pan, a sudden, frantic shout echoed from the living room.

“Love!” Mingyu’s voice was filled with panic. “I thought I lost her!”

You turned, suppressing a laugh as you saw him sitting up on the couch, his eyes wide with fear, his hair an adorable mess. But the moment his gaze landed on you, relief washed over his face. He let out a sigh so dramatic you almost laughed.

“She’s right here, babe,” you teased, bouncing Minji gently in your arms. “Safe and sound with her very sleepy mommy.”

Mingyu dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head with a sheepish smile. “You almost gave me a heart attack, love.”

“Me? You’re the one who fell asleep while on baby duty,” you teased, turning back to the stove. “But I have to admit… you two looked so adorable, I almost didn’t want to wake you.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you handle everything alone,” Mingyu mumbled, shuffling to the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “You did the night shift, so I tried to give you some sleep.”

You leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his touch melt your remaining fatigue. “Looks like we both need some more sleep,” you whispered, glancing at the sleeping Minji in your arms.

“Yeah,” Mingyu chuckled softly. “But for now, let’s survive breakfast.”

After the breakfast, Mingyu stood by the window, the morning light casting a soft glow over his figure as he carefully poured water onto Lucky's vibrant green leaves. He smiled, watching the water drip and soak into the soil.

"You know what, Lucky?" he began, his voice a quiet murmur. "You're not enough." He chuckled, shaking his head as if the plant could somehow understand his confession. "People say practice makes perfect, but it turns out having a baby is a whole other level."

He tilted the watering can, letting a few more drops fall. "With you, it’s simple. Water you, give you sunlight, talk to you sometimes—easy. But Minji?" His voice softened, a gentle fondness filling his tone. "She has this tiny cry that could shatter my heart one moment and then turn into the sweetest smile that makes me forget I haven’t slept properly in days."

Mingyu sighed, leaning a bit closer to Lucky’s leaves as if sharing a secret. "I thought I was ready, you know? But every time she stirs, every time she cries, I get scared. Scared I won’t be enough, that I’ll mess up.”

A soft rustle of the leaves seemed to be Lucky’s silent reply. Mingyu chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "But maybe that’s just part of being a dad—always worried but trying your best."

He turned his gaze toward the couch, where you were swaying gently with Minji in your arms, humming a soft tune as you stirred the hot chocolate. His smile widened, and a warm glow filled his chest.

“And I guess as long as I have her,” he whispered to Lucky, “and you, I might just survive this dad thing.”

Just then, you looked at him, catching him in his quiet conversation with the plant. “Mingyu, are you confessing your dad struggles to a plant again?” you teased, a laugh in your voice.

He turned, feigning a scandalized look. “Excuse me, but Lucky is a great listener!”

“Maybe you should water yourself while you’re at it, Mr. Sleep-Deprived,” you joked, but your smile was filled with warmth.

Mingyu set the watering can down and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around you and Minji. “Nah, I get all the love and energy I need right here.”

You leaned into his embrace, Minji still sleeping soundly between you. “Smooth talker.”

“I learned from the best,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

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